Martyr
by starsareFALLING
Summary: Gasp! A fourth chapter? [well deserved explanation inside]
1. The Martyr

**Summary:** Uh... just read it? It was just some stupid idea I came up with in a spur of the moment type thing... Set in the fourth book, well more accurately, the fourth movie, when Dumbledore is giving the speech of how Cedric died. It's a bit odd, I suppose… but whatever. I have more planned for the story, but I'm not going to post it if people don't like this part. I know this part kind of sucks, but this is all I can come up with right now. I hope it will get much better in the next chapter, if I post it... Oh, and please forgive me if I change from past to present tense in the story. I normally write in past tense, but present is just how I started this one...

* * *

She sits at the Ravenclaw house table, along with all of the other Beauxbatons. All of them are surprisingly beautiful, but there is something about her that sticks out like she is wearing a giant sign that reads: "Look at me, I'm the most beautiful person at this table." And since everyone's stares are on her instead of her fellow Beauxbatons, it leaves me wondering if there really is a sign there, and it's just near impossible to see. 

The Triwizard Tournament is finally over, and I am glad. The whole scenario in the graveyard and Cedric's death has left Harry very distant, and I'm hoping that as more time passes, he will get better about dealing with it. I know I should be concentrating on Harry right now, and trying to help him deal, but even he seems caught up in Fleur's beauty, so I don't feel too bad. Even the girls seem to be entranced by her, although, Lavender and Parvarti don't count because they've been crushing on her since the first moment she walked into this hall. I've always wondered if Veelas affected women. I suppose I now know the answer.

Dumbledore is making a speech. I don't know what he's going on about, but Fleur seems to be paying attention, if the sight of her icy eyes staring raptly at the end of the hall are any indication. Sometime I would like to learn of what goes on in that head of hers. I know through various sources that she is quite intelligent, so it would be interesting to learn of what things capture her attention.

I make an effort to listen to Dumbledore, for Fleur's face has changed from a calm visage to a look of minor discomfort. I vaguely catch the words, "Cedric," and, "graveyard." Oh, no wonder everyone seems so upset. Well, the people paying attention seem upset, mainly the Beauxbatons because they aren't all so enraptured with their fellow schoolmate that they can actually listen to what the Headmaster is saying. It strikes me as odd that they don't fawn over her like we do. Well, I suppose they do, since she is their school Champion, but it's a different kind of fawning. I wonder, are they immune to each others' charms?

"And now, as my final words tonight--" Dumbledore's voice is cut short as a deafening crash sounds from the east wall. The stone and brick implodes inwards, soaring across the hall to land in various places amongst the frightened and wary people littering the house tables. One piece of stone, large enough to be as big as Malfoy's humungous head, comes merely a few inches within the range of hitting my face, and I cry out, lurching backwards off the bench. Harry and Ron are ducking under the table, along with most of the rest of the Gryffindor house. I keep backing up, doing some strange sort of reverse shuffle until I hit something solid.

I look up, and see two piercing ice blue eyes locked onto mine. Fleur is poised over the bench, in a sort of half-standing position, as if she were just about to get up, but my sudden collision with her leg made the progress of her motion stop. She stands up fully and extends her hand to me. I stare at it strangely for a few moments before realizing that something terrible could happen in a few seconds, and grab her hand eagerly, struggling into a standing position as well. Eventually our eyes stray from each other to the sudden explosion that took place on the east wall.

Death Eaters, about fifty of them, come strolling through the impossibly large hole in the wall, dark hoods pulled over their faces, and white masks obscuring their identities as well. I wonder why Dumbledore hasn't done anything to stop them yet, and I look over to see his unconscious form on the floor. A large gash adorns his left temple, thick crimson liquid being pulled by gravity down to stain the floor. A stone the size of a small boulder lays a few feet away, the same red liquid splattered on one corner. I tear my eyes away from the sight of the other professors trying to awaken the Headmaster, and look back to the ominous cloud of black entering the hall.

The crowd of black parts, and I see one of the most horrible sights of my life. A pale figure, dressed in black, strolls past the separating ranks of Death Eaters. His skin is the whitest alabaster, too pale to be at least remotely healthy, and his face is strangely shaped, with no structure for a nose, other than two slits where a nose should be instead. He is more man than animal, yet more snakelike than man. He smiles cruelly, strolling deeper into the hall. The house tables closest to him prevent him progressing any further, and with a wave of his hand, they detach themselves from the floor to speed across the room. At this time, I don't realize that they are heading straight for Fleur and I, but she obviously does. She grabs my hand and jumps from the floor onto the table, dragging me up with her, so that by the time the table comes flying to the place we were just standing, we don't get decapitated and end up on top of the half-splintered table instead.

The force of the other table hitting it forced the Ravenclaw table into the other wall, so Fleur jumps down from the table to the other side. I should point out that this is a stupid move which leads us closer to who I assume is Voldemort, but I can't say anything as I am dragged down from the table.

Harry and Ron are still on the floor, in the same exact spot, minus the table providing them shelter. They are now in the open, and Harry stands slowly while Ron continues to cower at his feet. Voldemort smiles upon seeing Harry, apparently pleased that he managed to catch him. His eyes flick over to the front of the hall where, as I turn to look and see, Dumbledore is rousing. Voldemort's eyes narrow slightly and a small snarl appears on his face.

By now, all of the other students have flattened themselves against the surrounding walls, as far away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters as they can get. But Fleur and I are still within very close range of the Dark Lord. I feel a small tug on my hand, and I realize that Fleur is inching sideways, trying to put some distance between the Dark Lord and ourselves. I move with her, still unconsciously hyperaware of her hand in mine. All of Fleur's efforts of distance are squashed however, when Voldemort mutters, "_Exutio_."

A slightly shimmering barrier erupts from the ground just behind us, tracing a rectangular wall around the inner part of the hall, so that only Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Harry, Ron, Fleur, myself, and half of the Gryffindor house table are the only ones inside the barrier. Well, there goes our chance at escape. I hear Fleur curse under her breath in French. With some of the knowledge I had gained from visiting France one summer, I translate it to some other word for, "Damn it."

"Harry, my dear boy," Voldemort says. His voice almost hurts my ears. It sounds as if his voice is a curse, already causing harm, though no incantation has been said. "How glad I am to see you!"

I can see Harry shaking slightly, even with the distance between us. "Why are you here?" he asks, his voice trembling.

"Ah, you see, Harry, I finally realized that my strategy of you coming to me was not going to work. I realized that it was time to stop being so cowardly and come after you myself rather than waiting and plotting some way for you to fall into a trap. I realize that now, it is easier to keep you caged, rather than catch you," Voldemort says, his snakelike eyes flickering about the room excitedly, and a boyish sort of glee in his voice--one that sounds horrible with the words he speaks. "And now, Harry, it is time for us to finish what was started that fateful night in the graveyard!"

I don't know if Voldemort realizes that Fleur and I are within the barrier he has created. It seems that his only focus is Harry, so maybe he hasn't quite thought of it yet. However, his eyes flicker from Harry for a moment, down to Ron, who is still frozen on the floor, and then to Fleur and I. I gasp involuntarily, and I feel Fleur squeeze my hand slightly.

"Ah, it seems I missed a few while excluding your fellow schoolmates from interrupting." It seems like he's muttering to himself, yet to Harry at the same time. "Ah, no matter. They will be taken care of. And as for you, Harry…" Voldemort raises his wand, but Harry stands motionless. "_Incarcerous!_" Ropes appear around Harry, snaking around his body and binding him. His struggles are futile, for I doubt the ropes are weak enough to be broken out of by mere physical strength. Voldemort moves over and grabs Harry by the arm before pulling him to the opposite side of the barrier. He conjures a chair for himself, and settles down in it. "Let the show begin!"

The Death Eaters finally move from their place near Voldemort. Ron whimpers as they get closer, but it looks as though he's glued to the floor. "_Immobulus!" _one of them bellows, and Ron freezes on the spot. The Death Eater that jinxed him kicks him aside, knocking him far away from Fleur and I. Fleur lets go of my hand to grab her wand, and it's now that I realize that she is left handed. She's on my right side, so there is no way we can maintain our hand-holding and have our wands ready at the same time. Following her example, I fumble in my jacket pocket for my wand as well.

"_Expelliarmus!" _the same man roars, his wand aimed right at me. And for the life of me, I can't do anything as I prepare to be hit. My reflexes just aren't kicking in, so when the jinx hits me in the chest, I'm not surprised. I am forced backwards, spinning just slightly from the odd angle at which I was jinxed. The splintered Gryffindor house table breaks my fall, but not before my knee collides with a dangerously broken piece of the bench. I'm pretty sure I scream as I fall, aware of the burning in my leg, and sure that it'll be a pain to get all of those splinters out. I am now wandless, so the most I can do is sit on the floor while Fleur defends us. I hope so, anyway….

Fleur moves in front of me, blocking me from any of the spells the Death Eaters had planned to cast. They all raise their wands simultaneously, for which spell, I'm not sure, but I know it won't be pleasant. I cover my face with my hands as I see bright light erupt from their wands, but I suddenly hear Fleur yell, "_Protego!_" I remove my arms in time to see a shield surrounding Fleur and I, the spells being deflected away from us.

My leg is bleeding freely now, and my vision is starting to get hazy. The dimness is probably from blood-loss. I guess it doesn't matter much, seeing as how my wand is halfway down the hall and I can't reach it even though I want to. I hope Fleur can do something to stop them.

"Fine, if that's the way you want it!" the same man growls, apparently noticing that the shield Fleur created lasts for quite a while. I can see the man grin through my hazy vision, and he rips off his mask, along with his hood and cloak. Somehow, his smile changes. It looks more animalistic than before. A low growl emanates from his chest, and now without the cloak, I can see that dark fur is sprouting all over his body. A small thought comes into my head, and I wonder if werewolves can change at will. Why can't I remember? Oh, that's right, blood-loss…. Soon, the man's human body structure warps into that of a bestial wolf, much larger and definitely more beastlike than I remember Professor Lupin being. I look at the other closest ring of Death Eaters and realize that at least five more of them have transformed into giant beasts.

My vision is at it's darkest point now, and all I can see is Fleur's back, and six dark figures over her shoulder. Just before I pass out,she turns to look at me, and I see a hint of worry in her icy blue eyes. She turns back to the beasts, and then I hear only strange animal noises as everything goes black...

* * *

I open my eyes slowly. The darkness is fading a little, and I can see blurry outlines of my closest surroundings. The table is dark behind me, and so are five or six dark spots on the floor that I can't quite identify. Straight in front of me is something impossibly large, and very white. It's a giant… lion? Indeed, it is a great snow-white lioness, although by far larger and more beautiful than any one I have ever read of or seen in books or at the zoo when I was a young child. The dark spots on the floor of the hall, I can now tell are the animal corpses of the werewolves. They look to have been slaughtered by another sort of animal. Probably the giant lioness looming protectively in front of me. 

I sit up slowly, not remembering falling over. I keep my eyes fixed on the lioness, wondering what on Earth it's doing. It looks to be shaking. A shiver passes through the animal's body, before the brilliant white lioness begins to change forms, regressing into the very human form of… Fleur? She collapses to her hands and knees, apparently exhausted from her transformation into the lioness. Her breath comes in fast pants, and I can see her arms quivering where she tries to keep herself from collapsing to the ground. Over her now much lower form, I can see one lone Death Eater standing before her. As I look around the room, I see all the rest of them just like the werewolves--dead.

The remaining Death Eater raises his wand. "_Crucio!"_ he cries, and a scream is torn from Fleur's throat. Her back arches and she rises onto her knees, thrashing about until she falls to her back, terrible spasms making her body shake in frequent convulsions in front of me. She continues screaming, writhing about on the floor like the spider that Moody cursed in class the day he talked of the Unforgivable Curses. Moments pass as she keeps screaming, until finally, her head turns toward me, and those ice blue eyes stare into my soul, and I know in that moment, that if it weren't for me, she wouldn't be in this predicament. And as much as it pains me to do it, and as much as my aching leg screams at me for doing it, I jump to my feet and lurch at the Death Eater. I don't so much tackle him as I just collapse from my weakened leg, and he happens to come with me. It gets the job done though, and Fleur stops screaming.

I struggle to get the Death Eater's wand out of his hands for a moment, before remembering a trick I learned in one of my confrontations with Malfoy last year, and viciously slug him in the face. He lets go of his wand to clutch his nose, and I fling it as far away from us as I can. I can feel Fleur's arms around my waist as she lifts me off of him and pulls me to her side. She keeps her wand trained on the bleeding Death Eater before us, placing me behind her and out of danger. As I look over her shoulder again, I can see Harry and Voldemort on the other side of the hall. Voldemort is leaning forward in his chair, as if in anticipation, and Harry is just… there…. It looks like he's completely shut down.

Fleur is still staring down the Death Eater on the floor. Her voice is cold when she says, "_Diffindo,_" and his body splits apart like a pillow pulled from both ends at once. I look away, staring at Fleur's narrow shoulders instead of the bloody mess on the floor in front of us. It doesn't particularly bother me that Fleur just killed someone, after all, he was a Death Eater, but I've never had much of a strong stomach for people being torn in half.

A sudden burst of applause surprises both Fleur and I into motion. I instinctively duck, while she raises her wand again. Voldemort is clapping excitedly, no longer sitting in his chair. "Bravo, Ms. Delacour, bravo." He is moving towards us, his wand now in his hand as well. "That was a great performance, Ms. Delacour," he exclaims. "Especially that whole lioness bit. It was very… inspiring. Fight fire with fire, I suppose." He steps over one of his followers without giving him even a glance. He continues to advance towards Fleur. "I must confess myself impressed. You have been the first one to take down almost two score of my followers in less than… let's say, fifteen minutes. Bravo." He stops about twenty feet away, a grin adorning his snakelike features. "However, as you seem so dangerous, I'm afraid I cannot allow you any more fun, should you decide to bother me in torturing my captive. So therefore… _Vulnusculum!"_

I have never heard of such a curse in my life. I've never thought of what it could do either. I know through some strange translation _vulnus _is to wound, but I'm not sure of it's exact definition. Voldemort smirks and turns back to Harry, wading through the sea of corpses back to his previous place.

Suddenly, Fleur collapses to her knees. I move up closer to her, maneuvering around her to see her face. It is its normal beauty for just a moment, before deep cuts start appearing in random places on that beautiful face. She gasps as blood trickles from each wound, painting her face a dark crimson color. Dark red splotches appear on her blue sweater, and I can tell without even looking that more wounds are opening all over her body. One particularly large spot catches my attention, a dark crimson X right in the space where her heart would be. Her breathing is shallow, and each time she exhales, blood trickles from the corner of her mouth. Her icy blue eyes are impossibly wide, staring straight at me, and there's this look in them as if to ask _why? _Without warning, she has a sudden coughing fit and more blood is expelled from her mouth. And for all of my supposed brilliance and intelligence, I can't figure out for the life of me what to do. I'm just stuck here, watching Fleur bleed to death.

But then, Fleur just all of the sudden stops coughing. She grits her teeth and struggles to her feet, her wand clenched tightly in her hand. I don't know if I'm more surprised at the fact that she's still standing, or at the fact that she'd face off against Voldemort again. It's almost a tied situation. As I stare at her, I can see just how much she's hurt. There are so many wounds on her body that her clothing is almost completely soaked and stained from it.

I don't know what she does, but one moment, she's standing right in front of me, and then the next thing I know, she's standing inches away from Voldemort, and they are facing each other with their wands at the other's neck. I can see the tip of Voldemort's wand pressing into that pale neck, and I can see her wand mirroring his on his neck. For a moment, they are frozen like that, each with a wand to their throat and their wand to someone else's, but it seems they both come to one conclusion.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" _they both scream. And when they say it, it's like their voices merge, like it's only one person speaking, with a strangely feminine, yet oddly masculine voice.

A green light explodes from both their wands, growing in intensity until I'm forced to cover my eyes for fear of going blind. When I look back, it seems like time is frozen. Both Fleur and Voldemort are in the same positions, except there is no sign that they are still living. It's like they have become statues. And then suddenly, Fleur's body falls to the floor like a dead weight, landing heavily on the ground. Voldemort is still standing, but the light that was once so prominent in his eyes is gone, and he looks, for lack of a better phrase, dead on the inside. And then, he too, falls.

And as I stare at their prone bodies, I am aware of myself screaming, "FLEUR!"

I rush over to her, tripping over the motionless corpses in my haste to make it to her. I don't even feel the pain in my leg now--all I can think about is Fleur. I finally reach her, but when I look down into those icy eyes, they're blank. There's no spark of life in them at all, they are… dead. It's hard to breathe. It feels like my lungs won't take a breath, like something is pressing down on my chest. All I can do is stare down into those glossy eyes as the tears start to fall from my own eyes.

A teardrop falls from my eye down to Fleur's face, tracking downwards, smearing some of the blood away. And, just as I reach out to wipe as much of the blood off as I can, she blinks. I stare down into her eyes still, my hand frozen above her face, wondering if I had just imagined it. She blinks again, and finally, life flows back into her eyes. And now it's even harder to breathe, for I feel like my heart just stopped beating, but at least I wasn't going crazy.

"H-Her-Hermione?" she whispers, her voice soft and breathy. "What… what happened?"

I am about to answer her, but then, I hear hundreds of voices, and people are rushing over to us, crowding around Fleur, checking her wounds, asking if we're okay. I suppose that Voldemort's barrier wore off with his… death? What exactly happened to the Dark Lord? Is he finally dead? I can't answer myself, because suddenly they are lifting Fleur from the floor and whisking her away to the Hospital Wing. They do the same to me once Madame Pomfrey sees my leg.

And now, all I can think is, _will Fleur be okay?_


	2. By the Lake

I didn't see much of Fleur in the Hospital Wing. It only took Madam Pomfrey a few moments to tend to my leg, and I could have been released from the infirmary that very day, but she wouldn't hear of it until she was sure there were no other damages to my body. Which, of course, took much longer since she had to tend immediately to Fleur since her injuries were much worse.

As far as I know, Fleur is still being held in the Hospital Wing. It has been four days since the attack on the school. Supposedly, all of Fleur's injuries aren't healing as well as Madam Pomfrey might have hoped, from what I've managed to get her to tell me. It's about noon now, and we're all supposed to be gathered in the Great Hall for Dumbledore to give a speech, but I don't think I want to sit through another one of them. And Harry and Ron will tell me what happened anyway, so there's really no point in me going. So, instead of going to the Great Hall, I head down to the lake.

The lake is one of my favorite places. I like to sit by the water and read when the common room is too loud and Lavender and Parvarti are making noise in the dormitory. I find that it's a very good place to sit if I just want to think things over. The events of the other day should take up most of my time--at least, enough to where when I go back into the castle, the speech will be over.

Someone is sitting down by the lake, and as I approach, I can make out the white-blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes of Fleur. She's sitting near the edge of the water, her knees drawn up to her chest, and her arms resting atop them. She looks peaceful sitting there, just staring out at the dark waters. What she's doing out of the Hospital Wing, I do not know, but I'm glad to see that she appears to be well. She turns to look at me as I get closer, and a smile forms on her lips. As she turns her face to me, I can see why Madam Pomfrey probably doesn't want her out of the Hospital Wing.

The wounds from Voldemort's curse are still there, seemingly as fresh as the moment she got them. They aren't bleeding, and I can tell they have scabbed over, but it looks like they haven't even begun to heal yet. I don't understand why they're still there. Madam Pomfrey should have been able to take care of them with no problem… so why does it look like nothing has changed?

"Hello, Hermione," she greets, still smiling. I don't know why she's smiling, and I don't know why she's even out of the Hospital Wing if her injuries are still that bad. I'm surprised Madam Pomfrey would let her out of her sight. Fleur pats the ground next to her, motioning for me to sit with her. I oblige her and sit down a few inches away. "How is your leg?" She seems to be studying my knee--obviously she was aware of it being injured.

"Oh, it's fine," I say, absently rubbing said knee. "Madam Pomfrey took care of it in a few seconds. It was nothing major." I glance away, out to the waters for a moment, studying the Durmstrang ship. A few moments pass as we just look out at the water, a--well, I wouldn't say it's comfortable, but it's certainly not uncomfortable, so, there was just a neutral silence strung between us. A few moments pass before I turn to look back at Fleur. "So… why aren't your wounds healed?" I ask slowly, not trying to pry, just genuinely curious.

She turns to look at me, and it seems like she was expecting this question. "Madam Pomfrey does not know how to heal these wounds. She told me that she does not know why the wounds are taking so long to heal, but she suspects it's part of the curse Lord Voldemort used." It doesn't surprise me that she calls Voldemort by his name. After all, she is the one who stood up against him and is still living. "She says that we will just have to wait it out and wait for the wounds to heal themselves. There has already been some minor improvement, but not much."

"Will they scar?" I ask quietly. It would be a shame for her beautiful face to be scarred by those marks forever. Not that she wouldn't be beautiful anymore, because even now, with the marks still fresh and the worst they'll ever be, she is still the most beautiful person I have ever seen.

"There is a chance they will, but Madam Pomfrey is making me use the strongest herbs she can find to minimize the scarring," she says. She doesn't seem saddened by this at all. It's like she's taking this all one step at a time, and to hell with everything else. It's just the now--the past and the future don't matter. Well, it's better than her being all disappointed or depressed, I suppose. She gets very quiet all of the sudden, just staring out at the lake.

Her eyes are focused on the water, and while she's occupied with the lake, I take a moment to study her. She's wearing a jacket and long pants, so I can't see all of her injuries, but I can see marks on her hands and one leading up to her wrist, nothing big, but large enough to be easily seen. The one on her wrist worries me, and I'm thankful that it didn't cut too deep, otherwise she probably would have bled to death. The cuts on her face lead downwards, a few minute scratches on her pale neck. The one that most catches my attention is a small one trailing from her jaw down a little bit to a… lightning bolt shaped scar? I can't be quite sure, because the collar of her jacket is in my way, but it sure looks like it. I stare at it for a moment before my hand moves of its own accord to move her collar away from her neck.

I was right. Just above her right collarbone there is a small scar, in the exact same shape as Harry's. Fleur turns to look at me, but she seems unsurprised at my actions.

"So, you found the scar?" she asks softly. She hasn't moved at all, except for the turning of her head, and it seems like she's fine with me so openly staring at her. I nod absently, still staring at that familiar mark. It's familiar since I've grown accustomed to it on Harry for the past four years, but it's also very different. Mainly because it's on Fleur instead of Harry, I suppose, but also it's in a new location. I'm used to looking at Harry's scar through layers of dark hair, but there is nothing in the way of seeing Fleur's scar. It looks… out of place… on that once flawless neck.

The slightly raised skin is soft under my fingertips. I never knew a scar could feel so… saddening. I've seen scars worse than this, but none of them have made me feel this depressed. It's like the scar is a spell, that when you touch it or see it, waves of sadness just flow over you. I want to cry. I want to kneel at Fleur's feet and weep over the horrible encounter with Voldemort she had to go through to earn this scar. I want to cry until my eyes fall out, and then cry some more. I want to cry until the world is flooded with my tears, until everyone else sees me weeping and wonders why, and then they too see the scar, and then they help me flood the world with their tears. I want to cry so Fleur can see how sorry I am.

Fleur shivers at my touch and I can see her twitch in the barest flinch. I move my hand away quickly, reacting as if I'd been burned.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you…." I mumble the last part, but it comes out sort of breathy because I'm caught in Fleur's eyes. When I looked away from the scar, I made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and now I'm stuck there. Although, I admit, it's not a bad place to be stuck.

"Don't worry," Fleur says softly. "You didn't hurt me. It's just very sensitive right now." She smiles, and it's like we're just having a normal conversation. It's like the other day never even happened.

"Fleur… why did you protect me?" I ask, still staring into her icy blue eyes. "You could have just ran and left me there--why did you save me?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "I know I may seem snobby and stuck up, but I am not the kind of person to just leave someone to fend for themselves if I can help them." A few stray strands of hair fall into her face, and she tucks them behind her ear absently. Her eyes lock onto mine as she says, "Besides, I had to save you."

"Why?" I'm not even sure I say the word--I can't hear myself, but I know my mouth moved.

"I don't know," she says, laughing. "There was just something telling me to protect you, so I just went with it." She's wearing a full-blown smile now, and she looks incredibly happy. I don't know why, but it seems that she's just the happiest person in the world. Any moment now I expect her to jump to her feet and burst out in song, that's how happy she looks. It's like a strange movie.

"Fleur!" I hear someone call, and I turn to see Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle standing on the other side of the lake. I can't be sure, but it looks like she's motioning for Fleur to come to her.

Fleur sighs, and I turn just in time to see her roll her eyes. "Sorry--that's my sister…" she mutters. She gets up and brushes her pants off, smiling down at me. I get up as well, for what reason, I'm not sure. To wish her a proper goodbye, perhaps. "Well, I have to go…" she says, but she's still smiling, and it seems like there is something else she wants to say, but she doesn't. "I'll see you around, I guess." She smiles one last time before turning.

She only makes it one step before I suddenly say, "Hey, wait!"

She turns around, and before I even have time to think of what I'm doing, I'm aware that Fleur is a _really _good kisser. The kiss isn't all that passionate, and it doesn't last that long, but it is definitely one of the best kisses I've ever had. When we pull away, I'm not even sure I can speak, but I can hear myself say, "Thank you…." I don't know if I'm more shocked at the fact that I kissed her, or at the fact that I can still speak. It's a tied battle.

Fleur smiles again, if possible, even wider than before. "A kiss on the cheek would have been a sufficient thank you, but… you're welcome."

"Fleur!" Gabrielle calls again, and Fleur grimaces.

"Look, I really have to go…" she says, and I swear I can see her send a small glare in Gabrielle's direction. "But, uh… I'd like to see you again later…. Meet me here? At--after dinner? I mean, if you want to, that is. You don't have to, if you don't want to, but… I'd really like to see you again." Oh, my God, she is so cute! She seems so nervous and shy. She's backing up as she's talking, making frantic hand motions as she goes. I've never seen her act so… nervous. "So… I guess I'll see you later…. If not here, then… somewhere else. Uh, if you don't come, I-I'll understand, but if you do…. And uh… I'm just making a fool of myself here, so--I'm going to go. I'll see you later." She finally stops talking, but she's still walking backwards so she doesn't see the sudden rise in ground level as she's going. I try not to laugh as she trips over it and just barely catches herself from falling. I end up covering my mouth in attempt to stop laughing.

I watch her walk to the other side of the lake where she grabs her sister by the arm and makes a mad dash into the castle. I plop back down onto the grass, dazed from my shocking interaction with the girl I've been obsessed with since the moment I saw her in the library. That was one of the few places I'd ever thought I'd see her. And hidden behind at least seventeen books, no less! That was the first moment I ever started actually thinking of her. It seemed like she was even more of a bookworm than I am!

What shocks me most is what just happened nearly two minutes ago. I'd have to say the number one thing that shocked me was that I kissed her. I mean, what is wrong with me? Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I'd be the one to kiss her. I mean, I've had the rare fantasy where she'd kiss me, but… that's a different story. Anyway, I'm more shocked by the way she acted than anything else.

Seeing her so nervous like that was just… shocking, to put it in lame terms. I never would have guessed that Fleur could even be shy. I mean, the way she acts around other people, so calm and collected-- it just doesn't seem possible that she could get shy. And the way she was blushing! I just can't believe how cute she was! And now… comes the hard part. Do I meet her later or not? Well, actually, it's not hard at all. Of course I'm meeting her later! Now… what on Earth do I wear?

God, I can't believe I _kissed _her!


	3. Returning to the Lake

_Okay, well... everyone's been riding my ass about posting a new chapter, and this is what I've come up with... I've written this scene over and over, and it never seems right, so I just figured, "What the hell?" At least you guys will have _something _to read... Anyway, here's a little explanation of why it's taking so long... Number one, school, as always, is being a pain in my ass and I can never find free time to write anymore... Two, I'm more focused on stuff that's going on in my life right now, so please excuse me if it takes forever to post a new chapter... _

_Yeah, so, if this chapter sucks horribly, I'm sorry, but I don't exactly have enough time to make it spectacular... Whenever I have more free time, I'll work on it, I promise!

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_

Fleur wasn't at dinner. I was hoping to see her there to get some kind of clue if we were still going to meet by the lake, but she didn't go. So, I sat through the entire dinner staring at my wrist watch, trying to make time go faster. It didn't help that Harry and Ron were going on about Quidditch, and their incessant quarreling over who was the best team was driving me mad. Maybe it was just the fact that I was antsy that was making me so irritable.

So, where does that leave me? About twenty yards away from the lake where I'm supposed to meet Fleur. It's kind of dark, so I can't see much, but I can tell that there's someone standing by the lake. Well, it looks like they're pacing, actually. As I get closer, I can see that it's Fleur.

She seems to be talking to someone, but there's no one there with her. "Hermione, you know how… you kissed me earlier?" she asks. I freeze, thinking she's spotted me. Wait--she couldn't possibly have seen me yet, so why is she asking me questions? Is she practicing? "Well, the truth is… I really liked it, and I've been thinking about it all day. No--that's not it." She sighs, turning the other way and starting to walk. She runs her hands through her hair a few times, mumbling to herself. "Okay--uh, Hermione, when you kissed me earlier… I--well, I mean… I just have no clue what to say!" She spins a full circle, and when she stops spinning, she's facing me, but her eyes are closed. "Hermione, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about our kiss all day…. Yes, that's it!" She smiles and opens her eyes.

Her smile fades from a giant grin to a sheepish smile as she realizes I'm standing only a few feet away--apparently she's embarrassed. "Uh… hi, Hermione," she says, and even in the dark I can see her blush. "How long have you been there?"

I walk closer to her, not close enough to be in her personal space, but close enough to talk. "Since, 'Hermione, you know how you kissed me earlier?'"

She nods, like she expected it, one of those looks plastered on her face that just screams, 'great… just great.' She looks at me after a few moments. "I was hoping you had only caught the last part…" she mumbles, smiling wryly. "I didn't expect you to be here so early…."

I glance down, suddenly becoming shy about admitting why I'm early. "I just couldn't wait any longer…. I've been anxious to get here all day…." I roll my eyes at myself, internally slapping myself for how stupid I sound.

Fleur smiles, her eyes glinting in the soft moonlight. "I've been anxious too," she replies. "I've been thinking about coming here all day. That's why I skipped dinner. I've been thinking about you ever since I left earlier. Which you already know, because you heard me practicing what to say to you…." A wry smile is back on her face, and I smile in return.

* * *

Fleur looks really beautiful in the moonlight. I mean, she looks beautiful all the time, but there's just something different. There's something about the way that the moonlight shines on her platinum hair, making it shine silver and gold all at once, changing with each movement she makes. It's not so noticeable to where her hair looks like it's made of color-changing fiber optics, but it's just a subtle change that you have to look for to see. There's also something in her eyes, something that makes them look like they're alive and glistening, like galaxies and galaxies of stars are hidden behind them, sparkling so brightly that they could put the sun to shame. It's that something that makes me stare so intently at her.

We're laying out in the grass near the lake just staring at each other. Previously we had been talking, but our conversation eventually died slowly. I'm laying on my side, holding my head up with my hand, trying not to make it obvious that I'm staring at Fleur, even though I can tell easily that she's looking at me just as much. She's laid out flat on her back, one of her arms lazily thrown underneath her head as a cushion as she lets her head turn to face me.

"You're really beautiful, you know," she says softly, staring into my eyes. I blush immediately, looking down so that my hair falls into my face to hide it. I bite my lip as I glance at her through the part in my hair. She's smiling at me still, and as I look at her, she reaches over with her free hand to push my hair behind my ear softly. "That's much better," she says. "You shouldn't hide your blush… it makes you all the more beautiful…."

I blush again, even worse this time, but I don't let my hair cover it, instead choosing to fidget with my fingers uncomfortably.

Fleur glances at her wrist watch, checking the time. "It's getting late," she says, looking back to me. "We've been here nearly three hours…. We should get back to the castle… if you get caught after curfew you'll get into trouble." She rises to her feet, offering a hand to me. I take it, feeling how easily she can pull me up. We walk to the castle hand in hand, since, after she pulled me up, she neglected to let go. It's alright, because I don't mind. The warmth of her hand on mine is something I rarely get to feel, and I don't want to lose it, so I keep quiet.

The sudden change from the cool blue moonlight to the warm orange glow of the torch lit halls startles me for a moment. Outside, I would have described Fleur as some kind of Goddess of the Moon because of the blues and silvers complementing her natural ivory skin so well, but inside, with the firelight dancing along her face and through her hair, throwing shadows and making her hair glint a slight crimson, it looks like she could be a Goddess of Flame. I wonder, if we were in the greenhouse, would I think of her as a woodland nymph? If we were in a field full of magnificent violets, would I think of her as a mystical fairy? It seems that her image changes with the scenery, like she becomes a different person wherever she goes. I know it's still her, because she looks exactly the same, yet she looks so different that it's hard to tell.

We reach the portrait of the Fat Lady sooner than I had expected, and I pull myself out of visions of Fleur surrounded in different colors and wondering how she would look, turning to say goodnight. I stand quietly in front of the portrait, facing Fleur as she waits patiently for me to pay attention to her so she can bid me goodnight. It reminds me of one of those silly teen muggle movies where the nervous boy waits with the girl he had been dreaming of going on a date with for forever at her front door at the end of the night. Although, Fleur doesn't seem quite so nervous.

I expect her to say something first, but she is just staring at me. I don't say anything either because I've become focused on how a nearby torch makes it look like there's firelight dancing in Fleur's eyes.

"Well… uh, I had a great time tonight…" Fleur finally says. She winces and looks away for a split second. I hear her mutter something that sounds oddly like 'so stupid!' under her breath, but I'm not sure. "Anyway… goodnight…."

"Goodnight…" I breathe, still caught in her eyes. Even though I'm not really paying attention, I'm aware that this should be the part where she's leaving, but she hasn't moved. She's staring at me, somewhat in the same way that I'm staring at her….

Remember before how I said that Fleur was a _really_ good kisser? I retract that statement. Fleur is an _amazing _kisser. Her lips are so soft on mine that I'm not sure that I feel it, yet I know it's happening because the laws of closeness and space in the world tell me that she's standing so close to me that we just have to be touching. I can't believe the feelings that are rushing through me. I've never had this fluttering feeling in my stomach that won't dissipate or this trembling in my hands that won't stop. The tension coiling in my stomach is something akin to the result of the deepest desires I have, yet she's only kissing me. I can barely think but my mind is the clearest it has ever been, and I wonder if I'm going crazy or if she just has that effect on me….

Eventually she breaks away softly, and I can feel her soft breath on my face for a split second before she pulls back all the way. I open my eyes blearily, and her face comes into view after a few seconds. She smiles again, big and bright, before taking a step backwards. "Good night," she says again, still grinning at me, probably at the dazed look I'm sure I have on my fave. "I'll see you tomorrow…." She takes another step backwards, and I realize that she's still holding my hand, so when she's so far out of reach that her fingers slip from my grasp, my hand falls limply to my side.

I watch her walk backwards down the hallway until she's out of sight and I'm left standing there in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room trying to get my heart to slow and wondering if I'll get any sleep at all tonight.


	4. The Biggest Klutz In the Universe

_Okay, okay, I know... What took me so long right/ I mean, gosh, it's been over a year since I've updated this story... I'm sorry. For all of you who've begged me to add more to this, I'm really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really sorry. I am. But you guys are the ones who helped me to make the time to add this chapter. I was reading the past chapters to myself yesterday, and I felt bad that I've kept some of you waiting for so long, so I'm hoping that I can add at least a bit more to it... _

_And yeah... as I've mentioned, it's been over a year since I've updated this particular story, so granted, my writing style may have changed a bit, and it might seem as though Hermione's a new person. To be fair, she's expected to be, as you'll find out why later on in the chapter, but please, take into consideration the time that's passed. _

_So, I guess that's it... I hope you guys like it. I thought it was rather cute, so hopefully you guys will too. Of course, your reviews are what keep me going, so tell me what you think.

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_

The sunlight streaming gently through the wide, curtained windows of the fourth year girls' dormitory brings a smile to my face. Today is the day. Today, I will get to see my new girlfriend! Well, we haven't actually established that title yet, but I have a feeling that it's forthcoming. Hopefully, anyway. Haphazardly wrapping my tie around my neck and pulling my school bag off of the floor, slinging it over my shoulder in the same hurried manner, I rush out of the dorm and down the spiral staircase just as Parvati and Lavender peek bleary eyes from under their thick, crimson comforters.

I nearly loose my balance on the stairs in my haste, but my excitement won't allow me to slow down for something as meaningless as avoiding injury. Trailing a careless hand along the chilled, stone wall of the staircase leading to the common room to garner a slight balance, I all but skip past the few students awake at, as Ron would call it, the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. The quiet of the room, which had been peaceful and serene with the just waking sensations of day, warm and fluffy and all things comfortable, is disturbed greatly by my cheerful, 'Morning, Percy!', but surprisingly, it doesn't bother me. Neither does the look of unabashed incredulity that follows it, for that matter.

Believe it or not, there are things I don't like about myself. My hair, my eyes, my face, my body; all are shining examples. The only thing I take pride in is my intellectual prowess, and despite that, there are times when I fail so horribly at life that even being 'the smartest witch of my year' doesn't seem to make up for it. Such times are times like now, when my excitement brings out the side of myself that I try so desperately to keep tightly under lock and key: Hermione Granger, the biggest klutz in the universe.

I've been clumsy for as long as I can remember--as a toddler, as a child. It followed me for much of my early life; rarely was there a time that I don't remember being set up for failure. I was always thrown into horrible situations that seemed bent on doing nothing other than proving my clumsiness. However, upon starting my schooling at Hogwarts, I quickly realized that if I focused more on my studies and exerted a certain degree of restraint about my excitement, the terrible klutz within would, thankfully, go into hibernation.

But now, I suppose it has finally awoken.

Veelas; I used to wonder if they affected women. Books never mentioned the answer to the question, something dangerously akin to a burning plague of curiosity, I carried within me, and never was I brave enough to ask a teacher or friend. After all this waiting, I suppose I now know the answer. Surely, they must, for after spending only one night with Fleur, all of the restraint I had so carefully constructed is nowhere to be found.

I'm assuming this lack of control and sudden relapse into clumsiness is the reason I'm now sprawled on the chilled marble floor just below the Gryffindor portrait hole. My bag has fallen from its precarious perch on my shoulder, instead caught in the bend of my arm and tangled tightly around my wrist, while the tie I had neglected to fix properly has somehow managed to circle my neck and hook itself around my ear. It brushes against my cheek in a gentle tickle, wavering in and out of my peripheral vision as a slightly shifting, darkened wave of crimson and gold.

I also find myself nose to nose with none other than the beautiful Veela who has stolen my self-discipline. Cerulean eyes meet my own, regarding me with calm amusement, a hint of slowly fading shock lurking within their radiant azure depths. A small smile tugs gently at the corners of her pale pink lips.

Gosh, her lips look incredibly inviting--hey, wait a minute…. How in the world…? Let's see… if I'm sprawled on the floor… and my neck isn't painfully twisted into a position that would surely be impossible… and I'm still staring into Fleur's eyes…. Oh, boy….

I inhale sharply, suddenly aware of the few details I had failed to notice upon exiting the portrait hole. The first detail being that Fleur was standing just outside, and the second being that when I lost my balance and tumbled so very ungracefully into the hall, I landed right on top of my blonde object of infatuation. At least I know why I landed so softly.

The third detail to reach my clouded mind is the compromising position we're in. I find that straddling someone's thigh, especially that of my current, although sudden, crush, as accidental as it may be, causes my face to grow incredibly warm. Painfully swallowing the mass of nervous tension that has accumulated in my throat, I allow a soft, shaky exhale to pass through my lips. My heart thuds erratically against my ribcage as I become increasingly nervous of our close proximity.

Fleur plays idly with my nefariously misplaced tie, her smile growing wider. "Cute," she mutters, allowing it to slip from her fingers. It falls from my ear shortly thereafter, gravity's grip pulling it to dangle from my neck, and Fleur's cobalt gaze returns to my eyes. Absently brushing a disheveled lock of hair from my face, she chuckles lightly at my embarrassment. "Good morning, _ma belle amie_,"she whispers, and the way her voice slips so fluidly from English to French nearly makes me shudder. Or maybe the gentle hand that moves slowly to rest on my hip is responsible….

Logical reasoning states that I should return her greeting. I search frantically for words to use as a reply, but for all of my so called intellect and intelligence, my mind draws a blank. Her eyes are intensely mesmerizing at such a close distance. The sunlight that had so easily filtered through the curtains in the girls' dormitory now passes through the large, intricately designed window imbedded in the wall at the far end of the hallway. The early morning glow is absorbed by the warm sapphire depths before me. I'm so lost within her eyes that the only reply I can force out is a breathy, "Uh… Fleur…."

"Hermione, are you okay?"

I turn toward the concerned, apparently masculine voice, aware that it must be Percy by the strange effeminate current that flows within it. He lingers uncertainly inside the common room, one hand resting on the stone of the wall, the other placed lightly on the back of the Fat Lady's portrait. He must have seen me trip.

I take a moment to study the strange look he casts down at me, and realize what Fleur and I must look like. Sprawled together with her thigh between mine and her hand on my hip; it must be any boy's fantasy. Thankfully, Percy's gay, and all the hormone-driven straight boys are nowhere to be found. "Yeah--I… uh… I'm okay, Percy…. Thanks…." He nods slowly, strange look still in place. Heaving a confused sigh, he grips the edge of the portrait's canvas and pulls it shut, leaving Fleur and I alone once more.

I turn back to the blonde goddess beneath me, again struggling to find words.

"Perhaps we should get up, _non_?" she suggests, the tease in her voice apparent. Getting up doesn't sound too appealing. To get up would mean to lose the warmth of her hand at my hip. To get up would mean to lose the strangely comfortable and intensely nerve-wracking sensation of being close so to her. The reluctant nod I give in reply is slow, but regretfully spastic. It takes a moment for the trembling in my arms to lessen to a bearable quiver, so shaken am I that my muscles fail to cooperate at first.

Once on my feet, I offer Fleur my hand. To tell myself that I'm only being polite by helping her up would be a lie. True, I was the one who knocked her down, and it only makes sense that I should help her to her feet, but a large part of me knows that it's more than that; I just want to feel her hand on mine again. The blush that had so warmly colored my cheeks moments before hasn't disappeared, but it has lightened considerably, I hope. If anything, the heat is somewhat less severe.

"_Merci_."

I smile slightly at Fleur's utterance; the small phrases in which she slips into her natural tongue are terribly endearing. Of course her English is perfect, drawn in to a calm rhythmic flow by her accent, and she can speak fluently about nearly anything, should she choose to, but I find her sporadic regressions to French to be quite charming. Now that we aren't face to face and I'm not hyper aware of her body so close to mine, my mind is clear enough to allow an affectionate, if still a little embarrassed, smile to show.

I pause for a moment, but then decide to reply in kind. My summer in France had taught me quite a bit about the language, something I enjoyed learning, even if it was brief. This knowledge helps me understand Fleur's rare French utterances, and for that I'm glad. "_De rien_," I reply softly, hoping I chose the right wording. If I remember correctly, that phrase translates to something like, 'it was nothing,' or, 'no problem.' Hopefully, she'll take it as a, 'you're welcome.'

A surprised, pleased look blooms across her beautiful face, and for nearly the millionth time this morning, I'm left breathless. Her eyes fall to my bag, which is still caught around my wrist. I barely notice the lack of circulation caused by its weight. Her fingers are soft as they brush my wrist, working gently at removing the strap restricting my blood flow. "_Parlez le français_?" she asks, lifting the bag to her own shoulder.

Her nimble fingers travel to my tie and set to work at adjusting it correctly. Also in my earlier haste, I'd neglected to finish buttoning my top, and as she goes about fretting over my tie, the smooth skin of her knuckles brushes ever so slightly against my collarbone. A shallow exhale escapes me. Too flustered to think of a French reply, and surprised my current state is articulate enough to understand the question she asked, I settle for the easiest response I can come up with: "A little…."

She smiles at my reply, giving my tie a final tug before stepping respectfully out of my personal space. It's at this moment that I take the time to examine her wounds. They're still a cause for concern, darkened, red, nearly raw, but they look better than they did yesterday. The scar just above her collar is still visible, still saddening. The same inexplicable urge to cry from yesterday washes over me, but no tears are forthcoming. I still my hand just as I reach out to touch it, instead returning my eyes back to Fleur's patient gaze.

She holds out a gentle, alabaster hand. "Shall we?"

A mild groan from my stomach answers her question; apparently breakfast is a good idea right now. I close my eyes, trying, but failing miserably, to fight off the flush that rises in my cheeks. Fleur's adoring smile meets me when I open my eyes. Her hand still awaits mine, stilled in a patient anticipation. Flush fading slowly, I slip my hand into the familiar, calming warmth and feel a sense of belonging overcome me. It nearly makes me freeze, unexpected as it is, but Fleur's soft smile and gentle tugging gets the message across, and we start down the hall. Our gait is slow, unrushed. As we walk, hand in hand, on our way toward the Great Hall, I remember one of the adorable French utterances she had said earlier.

'_Amie…._'She called me her girlfriend.

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_So? Love it? Hate it? Let me know. _


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